Page 55 of Cursebreaker

It could be the bone-deep exhaustion or the way the lantern light illuminates the red rimming his eyes, but for once, I don’t want to argue with him.

“You called my name.” I watch him carefully—note the way his posture goes rigid and the ghost of a frown touches his lips. Regret twists my stomach. “You probably don’t remember. Forget I said anything.”

Titus stills, cutting a glance at me, his expression unreadable. He shifts, placing a hand on either side of me as he bends slightly, studying my face with wide, honest eyes that trace the jagged scars across my cheek, and lower still. “I remember everything when it comes to you,” he whispers as his gaze drops to my mouth, his lips a breath away from mine.

No mask. No compulsion.

Just Titus. Just me.

His hand finds my jaw, his touch featherlight as his thumb brushes my cheek. The air is thick, charged with heat and electricity. Our hearts beat in tandem, faster as his lips part. His eyes find mine once more, brimming with something between fear and hope.

When the warning bell rings out, I almost think I’ve imagined it. But Titus’s teeth clench as he withdraws, cursing under his breath.

I barely make out the words “You’ve got to be kidding me” as he turns, unsheathing his cutlass.

I’m on my feet in seconds, a dagger in my hand, my heart in my throat.

Titus steps aside, tilting his head as if to say, After you.

I grab my coat from the hook near the door, slip it over my shoulders. His jaw tightens as his gaze rakes down the front of the sapphire-blue fabric, eyes glittering like the gilded stars embroidered there. I haven’t worn it since the day he was rescued, but tonight…

Tonight I want him to see that there are things I haven’t forgotten, either.

As we burst through the double doors onto the deck, I hear Gabriel already shouting orders, preparing the others for battle.

“A ship’s been spotted,” he tells us.

“Friend or foe?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Can’t be sure.”

“Better to be safe than sorry,” Titus says with a tight nod.

It’s difficult to see much of anything in the heavy mist as it curls around the Starchaser. The crew moves in a blur about the ship, illuminated by the thrash of a flame, streaks of dark leather and glinting steel.

I meet Lewis near the bow of the ship, a spyglass pressed to his left eye.

“What can you see?” I ask.

“Not much,” he grumbles, clearly frustrated. “It’s too dark, and the fog is so thick I don’t even know what I’m looking at.”

Lewis has always had the best eyesight in our family. Father used to tease him that he could see so well in the dark because he stayed in Mother’s womb a few days too long. It worries me that he can’t determine if we’re facing an enemy clan or approaching one of Orella’s fleet. If we strike and it’s our people on that ship…

“It’s too late to change course,” Margaret says from close by. I didn’t hear her approach.

“What should we do?” Charlie calls out from where he stands at the helm.

My hands buzz, blood hammering in my ears. You don’t know what it takes to lead. If I order the attack, we risk alerting the ship to our presence—and there’s still a chance they haven’t spotted us yet. If we wait and they attack first…

An image of the Lightbringer, engulfed in flames, sears my mind.

I think of the bounty the siren warned of—how Will has offered something valuable in exchange for my capture. My capture—not my siblings. Not anyone else’s.

“Ready the cannons,” I say.

A heavy silence passes between my siblings, and then—

“Ready the cannons!” Margaret shouts.